APTER III" id="CHAPTER III">
THE FINEST CITY IN THE WORLD
So Sheila Arundel left the garret where the stars pressed close, and went with Sylvester Hudson out into the world. It was, that morning, a world of sawing wind, of flying papers and dust-dervishes, a world, to meet which people bent their shrinking faces and drew their bodies together as against the lashing of a whip. Sheila thought she had never seen New York so drab and soulless; it hurt her to leave it under so desolate an aspect.
"Cheery little old town, isn't it?" said Sylvester. "Gee! Millings is God's country all right."
On the journey he put Sheila into a compartment, supplied her with magazines and left her for the most part to herself--for which isolation she was grateful. With her compartment door ajar, she could see him in his section, when he was not in the smoking-car, or rather she could see his lean legs, his long, dark hands, and the top of his sleek head. The rest was an outspread